Page 51 of Married to the Forbidden Duke
He ushered her back to the carriage, saying the necessary goodbyes as they went, and sat opposite her in a pit of nervous anticipation. Part of him felt as though he ought to be ashamed, but he knew she felt the same way. They both hovered at the precipice of something new, and he desperately wanted them to tip over.
The moment they arrived at his residence, he climbed out of the carriage and offered her his hand. As she descended the steps, he scooped her into his arms and strode toward the door.
“Frederick! What in heavens are you doing?” she gasped.
He made no mention of the fact that she said his name often now, without even seeming to notice the change. No matter what she had intended, her feelings were softening toward him, and he felt a dizzying wave of relief and gratitude at the thought.
“Is it not obvious?” he smirked. “I am carrying my wife inside the house.”
“Why?”
“Whyever not?”
“Because it’s undignified!” She slapped ineffectively at his shoulder. “Put me down! I agreed that you could provide me with medical relief, not this.”
“Your leg is tired from the evening,” he chuckled, unperturbed by her half-hearted attempts to disentangle herself. Despite her words to the contrary, he saw the flush on her cheeks, the brightness of her eyes. She might tell herself, for the sake of her pride and her past, that she didn’t want this, but they both knew differently.
Besides, he meant it. She had been limping more and more as the evening progressed. Shewastired, and it was his duty and obligation—hishonor—to see to it for her.
“Won’t you let me help you?” he pouted as he ascended the stairs to her bedchamber. There, she would feel most comfortable, he judged. “I know it goes against your every instinct, but thereis nothing I want more in this world than to make you as comfortable as possible at all times.” And more, if she would let him. “Won’t you allow me that, at least?”
Those luminous eyes turned to him. “To soothe your feelings or mine?”
“Both,” he uttered gravely, the truth both a poison and a balm. He could not deny her. “Every time I see you, I am reminded of my folly and my mistakes. Helping you helps me feel as though the days of my life are not wasted. But it also improves your quality of life. It makes things easier for you. And I would do that, even if you never offered me your forgiveness. I do not need the promise of a reward to do what is right by you.”
A frown turned her mouth down as she brought her fingertips to his face. “But you want my forgiveness?”
“For both our sakes. Holding onto a grudge brings nothing but pain, Alice. You know it as well as I do, I think.”
Her fingers reached the corner of his mouth, and she ran one finger across the seam of his lips. He parted them, and her breath shuddered as she slid a finger into the wet heat of his mouth. He closed his lips around that single digit, his eyes finding hers as he sucked. Her pupils flared, eyes darkening, and he knew lust well enough to recognize it on her face.
“I want you,” he told her, speaking past her fingers, his lips moving against hers. “Forgiveness or no. You don’t have to like me to want what I can do to you.”
He reached her bedchamber and shifted her in his arms to open the door. Then he carried her to her bed and laid her down. She stared up at him, the flush high in her cheeks, desire in her eyes.
“I promise I will be gentle. I promise I will do everything in my power to make everything good for you.” He leaned over the bed, watching her carefully as he brushed his mouth over hers. One small part of a kiss. The tiniest hint of what was to come. “What do you say, sweetheart? Will you let me?”
She drew in a breath so deep, it felt as though her entire frame would come apart at the seams. And for a terrible moment, he thought she would say no and deny him everything he wanted after all. Not because she didn’t want it, but becausehedid.
He had hurt her enough that he couldn’t begrudge her anything, but he wanted more than anything—more than anything in the entire world—to make her feel good. This much, he could do for her.
Then she released all the air in her lungs, and her body softened under his. She reached up a hand and curled it around the nape of his neck.
“Yes,” she whispered, and then she kissed him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Alice knew she was playing with fire. Justifying her decision by accepting that she didn’t have to like him to let him touch her. To enjoy it. She could hate him and want him—the two things were not mutually exclusive.
The problem was, of course, that she did not think she hated him any longer.
When she thought about him, when she saw him, she thought more often about the way he had kissed her when he had. The things he had done for her. The press of his fingers against her skin. She did not think of how much she despised him, but rather how much she yearned for him.
Desire had changed her. She had thought, when she discovered he wanted her, that she could tease him and deny him—but it transpired she could deny him nothing, for she wanted too much.
Alice, the girl who wanted too much.
She did not think she would ever stop wanting this.
